


we'll be alright

by lynnpaper (27beansprouts)



Series: togruta, negotiator and human disaster [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Whump, author is projecting, i beat up ahsoka tano and call it writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27beansprouts/pseuds/lynnpaper
Summary: She’s so tired she can’t even get off the Force-forsaken floor, much less walk all the way to the cafeteria for food or water.At least she fainted. That counts as sleep. Right?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: togruta, negotiator and human disaster [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129013
Comments: 24
Kudos: 147





	we'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

> this got way more angsty than i intended but oh, c'est la vie

“Have you seen Ahsoka?”

Obi-Wan looks up from his datapad to find Anakin poking his head into this quarters. He looks a little anxious and he’s breathing harder than usual, like he ran all the way from the other side of the temple —but that’s nothing too far out of the ordinary.

“No,” Obi-Wan says with a frown. The sixteen-year-old togruta is not so much a snippy little padawan anymore, but she still tends to stick to Anakin like glue, following closely on his heels whether they’re walking around the temple or across a flagship. Anakin doesn’t mind. He secretly enjoys her company. He’s probably just not used to her not being around.

“I haven’t seen her for almost a week. Thought she might have stopped by here.” Anakin seems troubled, which doesn’t do much for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

“I’m sorry, Anakin. I haven’t seen her either.”

Anakin deflates, his face falling. “I’ve searched for an hour. I’ve checked her quarters, mine, the medbay, the barracks, the cafeteria —”

“Is she with Barriss?”

“No, Barriss is with Master Luminara somewhere in the Mid Rim.”

Anakin is looking more worried by the second. Obi-Wan softens, sensing his distress.

“Ahsoka will be fine, Anakin,” he says. “She’s probably busy, or with the clones on the ship.” He pauses. “You’ll find her eventually.”

Anakin nods glumly, closing the door as he slinks back into the corridor.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan calls, and Anakin opens the door again to glance back at him. “Check the sparring area.”

Anakin nods again and the door shuts with a click. Obi-Wan hears his footsteps reverberating through the floor. He doubts Ahsoka will be there, but for the sake of both his sanity and Anakin’s, he hopes Anakin runs into his padawan somewhere along the way.

* * *

She’s so tired.

She remembers collapsing against the wall of the sparring room, head spinning from exhaustion. How long had she trained for? There’s no chronometer in here. Hours? Probably. Easily. She recalls the time her master trained for seven hours straight, the image of his utter fatigue blinking somewhere in her mind. _Hypocrite_ , she thinks to herself. She almost laughs, but that would require more energy than she can muster right now.

How long since she last ate? She can’t remember. Her stomach stopped grumbling a while ago.

Her throat is parched and her tongue feels like sandpaper in her mouth. _Water_ , she thinks belatedly, addled brain struggling to form coherent thoughts. _She needs water._

She probably passed out at some point, which is why she’s curled up like a rag doll against the wall, training sabers abandoned somewhere in the middle of the sparring mat. _Just forms_ , she’d told herself. _Just gonna practice forms_.

She’d been so stressed for the last week. She tried everything — reading, meditation, even begged Kix for sleeping pills, and he’d given her two — _no more_ , he’d said sternly — but they’d only helped for a couple of nights, and then she was left alone with her thoughts in the dark. Like the rope in a relentless game of tug-of-war, insomnia on one end and utter exhaustion on the other.

Finally, she turned to the sparring centre, hoping she could physically tire herself out and force her body to rest. She trained until her arms and legs shook, and when she could no longer draw energy from her own body’s reserves, she turned to the Force, channeling it into her movements, ignoring the gaping hole growing in the fabric of her presence. _Like trying to push a speeder with no fuel._

It worked, until it didn’t.

Now she’s so drained she can’t even get off the Force-forsaken floor, much less walk all the way to the cafeteria for food or water.

At least she fainted. That counts as sleep. Right?

“Snips?”

Anakin’s worried voice rouses her from her stupor, and she blinks as the stark bright light hits her retinas, vision swimming.

Ahsoka immediately shuts her eyes again as pain lances through her head. She doesn’t have the strength to whimper.

Anakin presses two fingers onto the side of her neck. Her pulse is sluggish, but not thready. _Yet_. With growing dismay, he notices that her thin maroon tunic is damp with sweat, rapidly drying in the cool air and causing her to shiver violently.

“Snips, can you hear me?”

Anakin lays a warm hand on her freezing arm and she flinches, eyes still closed. Her normally vivid orange skin is horrifyingly pale.

Ahsoka manages a pathetically weak nod before her chin hits her chest, head hanging limply.

Anakin curses.

He scoops her up in an instant, one arm under her knees and the other across her back, cradling her to his chest. Then he’s moving out of the room, and she musters enough energy to turn her head to his chest, pressing her face into his tunic.

Dimly, she realises he’s not taking her to the medical bay, but to his own quarters.

* * *

Anakin runs down the corridor, distress and anguish rolling off him in waves.

She weighs _nothing_ in his arms.

_What have you done, Ahsoka?_

The moment he’d found her slumped in a corner of the sparring area, a wave of nausea had washed over him, mind immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion. He’d tried to search for her signature in the Force, finding only the faintest whisper.

Anakin remembers what that feels like. Pulling energy from the Force, making up for the energy she doesn’t have — and now her body is paying the price.

He reaches his door, fingers flying over the keypad, pushing the door open with a shoulder, kicking it closed without looking back.

Anakin carries her straight to his bedroom. With an almost painful gentleness, he sets her on the bed, his arm the only thing keeping her upright. She fell unconscious again on the way here, and she’s completely unresponsive as he pulls the blanket back, laying her on the mattress and covering her frail body as tenderly as he can.

He’s not going to take her to the medbay. He knows her hurt is not just skin-deep, and it’s not just medical attention she needs — this is more than physical. This is emotional, psychological, a foreign disease _._ Because she’s been neglected in the war far too many times, and he’s been blind not to see this coming.

But he’s almost certain that she did this to herself. Intentionally, unintentionally, it doesn’t matter. His padawan looks like death.

Anakin runs a hand over her clammy forehead. “Ahsoka?” he murmurs.

Ahsoka makes a low sound in her throat. _At least she’s awake_. Anakin slides a hand under her head to prop her up, holding a glass of water to her lips. She drinks it. Anakin holds out a ration bar, already opened, and she accepts it gratefully. Takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. Again. Until she’s done.

Then, like some madman, she grins, dry lips cracking, and lets out a raspy laugh.

“This isn’t ideal,” she croaks.

_Still snippy._

“I’m gonna give you something dry to wear before you freeze to death,” he says.

She nods, reaching for his hand. For comfort.

“Can you stand?” he asks softly. She nods again.

Ahsoka doesn’t even protest as he undresses her, stripping her down to only her underclothes, dropping her tunic and leggings in a pile by her feet. She does, however, flinch when his gloved hand brushes over her ribs.

Anakin blanches when he notices a deep purple bruise on her side. It’s not serious, and he knows Ahsoka’s been through much worse, but it doesn’t look good.

She catches him staring, and says “I hit myself with the training saber.” Smiling. Trying to make light of an awful situation.

Anakin looks away from the bruise, rubbing her freezing arms to coax some warmth into her body.

He notes, with dismay, that she’s lost weight.

_Wasting away._

With trembling hands, he drapes one of his tunics over her shivering form, guiding her arms through the sleeves. It’s worn and warm and smells like temple-issue detergent, but also something distinctly _Anakin_ that floods her senses and lulls her into some semblance of repose.

Anakin eases her back under the covers, and the last thing she remembers is the soft pressure of his lips against her forehead before she slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

Light streams through the window slits, casting warm stripes on the floor. The chronometer on the wall tells her it’s sometime around midday.

Her head is clearer now, and she realises she’s in his bed.

 _Oh_.

The events of yesterday come flooding back into her mind. Embarrassment, guilt, shame — they clench deep in her belly, threatening to crawl up her throat.

She makes her way to the living room on unsteady legs, where Anakin sits cross-legged on the couch, nursing a cup of caf while staring blankly at the wall. She stops in the doorway and he looks up immediately, eyes widening, then jumps up and practically _runs_ to where she is, pulling her into his arms. After a second, her arms come up to wrap around his waist, and she rests her head on his chest. _Just like they always do._ ****

She doesn’t fail to notice that he’s not holding her as tightly as usual. Like he’s afraid to break her. Like she’s fragile.

“I should have seen it earlier,” he says, and she buries her face in his tunic.

 _It’s not your fault_ , she sends down the bond.

“You’re my padawan,” he says. “I’m your master. I took you under my care and I swore to protect you. I promised no harm would come to you it if was within my control.” His voice breaks. “I broke that promise. I could have prevented this.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, because she doesn’t know what else to say. It’s not his fault, she knows, but he will beat himself up over this nonetheless.

 _You apologise too much_ , Anakin thinks.

 _Sorry_ , she shrugs back, reading his mind, but it’s less guilty and more lighthearted this time.

“I need a shower,” she says.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he replies.

* * *

Ahsoka emerges from the fresher, back in a tunic which fits her and the warmest leggings she's ever worn. Anakin tosses a robe at her for good measure. _True Jedi fashion_ , she thinks, smirking back at him.

“Hungry?” he asks. His eyes are still weary but at least he is smiling. He wonders how long it’s been since she last ate. How long it’s been since she last had a proper meal. Too long, if her lean figure is anything to judge with.

“Starving,” she replies.

They make their way down the halls of the temple, master and padawan, just as they always do. But Ahsoka doesn’t expect Anakin to turn into the passage leading away from the mess hall, and she frowns, stopping in her tracks.

“Master? The cafeteria’s that way.”

Anakin grins, leading her around to the speeder bay.

“Oh no, my dear padawan,” he says. “We’re going to Dex’s.”

Ahsoka beams, running to catch up with him, and Anakin knows, after she’s fought for the driver’s seat (and lost, obviously) in the fastest speeder they can find, that they’ll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> was this harder to write than i expected? yes. did i perhaps maybe potentially possibly shed a tear??? yes. are we noticing a trend here????? yes. 
> 
> but as we say, it eez vhat it eez
> 
> also, one of my dear friends somehow managed to find me in the depths of ao3. hello J i hope you're having a good day :) 
> 
> as usual, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!! i will be waiting with my 27 WIPs and 3 pound tub of yogurt 
> 
> (or find me on tumblr as [lynnpaper](https://lynnpaper.tumblr.com/)!)


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